


Growing Up

by natsora



Series: Elements of Ryder [4]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Aromantic, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, First Aid, Hostage Situation, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Sexual Tension, Smut, Whump, aromantic main character, autistic main character, caught in an explosion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: Sara Ryder is young, impulsive and completely reckless, or so Harry Carlyle thought. When a party is crashed by the Roekaar, Sara Ryder morphs right before his eyes, forcing him to reevaluate everything he knew.Maybe Harry Carlyle never truly knew Sara Ryder after all?It’s suggested you readDeadly Starfor context.
Relationships: Harry Carlyle/Female Ryder | Sara
Series: Elements of Ryder [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1040183
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MellowCorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowCorn/gifts).



> My thanks to AinZaphir for taking on beta duties! Check out her writing at her [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AinZaphir/pseuds/AinZaphir) and [Tumblr](https://ainzaphir.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> It's MellowCorn's birthday so here's her birthday fic, released earlier than the usual Wednesday. Happy Birthday woman!
> 
> _Prompt fill for “Caught in an explosion”, Sara Ryder and Harry Carlyle for KateVidal_

“You remember the party is in two days right?” Kesh asked.

Ryder sighed. Tann wanted to throw a party, and as the human Pathfinder, she would have to attend. Well, she had intended to ignore the party invite until Kesh called. She transferred the call from her omni-tool to the terminal in her quarters so that she could strip off her armour as she talked. “Tann has refused to let me forget about it. He’s been sending me email after email about it.”

Kesh nodded. “You’re coming right?”

She popped the buckles from her armour and the pieces fell onto the floor in a messy pile. Kesh was looking up into the cam in between reading reports arrayed across her desk. “No,” she replied, shrugging. “Why the fuck do I have to be there? I have a lot of work to do.”

There was the telltale sound of datapads being dropped onto the desk and Kesh’s face came into view. “You can’t do this to me, Ryder.”

She ignored Kesh as she reached towards her back to get at the zip of her undersuit there. It was tantalisingly out of reach and it was pissing her off even more. Her fingers scrapped at the edges of the zipper only to fail to get a good grip on it. 

She slammed her palms against the edge of the desk before straightening and held out a fist at Kesh. “I have kett bases to clear, missing colonists to find, and assholes to shake sense into all over the fucking cluster,” she listed out on her fingers before making another attempt on that fucking zipper. “Tell me why do you think attending is a fucking party is more important?”

Kesh sighed. “It’s not, but for my sake, for my fucking sanity, _please_.”

Ryder didn’t speak, she had finally gotten a good grip on the zip and managed to yank it down. She tugged her arms out of the sleeves, ignoring the horrible squeaking sounds they made as she worked them left and right to pull them loose. 

“Come on, Ryder.”

One of the sleeves came loose with a pop. 

“Ryder.”

The other sleeve too. 

“Ryder!”

Kesh sighed and cleared her throat roughly. “You know that shipment you’re waiting for?” 

That made Ryder stop. Her undersuit gathered around her waist as she braced her hands against the table to lean closer to the terminal. Interest lit her eyes up. 

“I have it with me now,” Kesh went on. 

“Great! I’ll swing by the Nexus once I have—”

“So…” Kesh interjected. “ _When_ are you coming by?”

“Not in two days…” Ryder raised a brow. 

“Those bottles of ryncol might find their way to a certain party if you’re not around to keep them safe,” Kesh pointed out innocently. 

Ryder met Kesh’s eyes and held her gaze. Neither spoke. In the end Ryder sighed and Kesh’s smile curved sharp, just showing her teeth slightly. Victory, quite obviously, tasted sweet on Kesh’s tongue.

* * *

Even before the Tempest docked at the Nexus, the dockmaster had commed them letting Ryder know that there was a package waiting for her in Kesh’s office. Or at least that was what Jarth relayed. Ryder left the crew to handle the resupply before heading off to enjoy their shore leave as she made her way to the tram, taking her to Kesh’s office. 

“They get shore leave, I get fucking overtime,” she growled as she slammed her armoured palm against the holo-lock. 

The motion activated lights inside Kesh’s office flickered on as she stepped inside. It was empty. She frowned and sighed, wondering why Kesh had asked her to come here first. 

She spied a box on Kesh’s desk. Her heart leapt a little. _Could it be?_ A smile tugged at her lips. Maybe she would be spared from attending the party after all. There was a datapad on the crate but she put it aside, eager to check the contents first. With a firm press on the catch, the buckle came undone. Ryder’s disappointment was a force made physical. 

“What the fuck is this?” she whispered as she pulled the item from the box. 

A swath of bold red fabric emerged from the box. It shimmered and glinted even under the harsh white lights of the Nexus. She blinked. It was a fucking dress. Tossing it aside, she checked the crate again, hoping there was something else in her package, like the ryncol she’d come for. Hope was dashed when she realised there was naught but a pair of heels.

Ryder snorted, a noise of utter disgust and tossed the dress back into the box. How she wished she could get away with blowing the dress up and claiming it to be an accident. Picking up the datapad, she tapped on it and a video started playing. 

“I see you found your present. You claimed you didn’t have anything to wear for the party and would be wearing your armour,” Kesh said in the video. “That won’t do. After the interview you gave right after the Archon’s defeat, you’re a bona fide celebrity. There is no shortage of designers who would kill for a chance to dress the Pathfinder. So I’ve taken the chance to pick this out of the extremely quick competition I held for this very purpose. You have no excuses left. Get your fucking ass to the party and do not be late.” 

Just as Ryder was about to toss the datapad onto the table, Kesh’s voice rang out again from the datapad. “Oh, don’t bother searching my office for the ryncol, I’m not stupid enough to keep it there. Remember, put the dress on and don’t be late.”

The datapad powered down and she sighed again. “Fuck,” the curse was long drawn and weary. 

Ryder glanced at the chronometer on her omni-tool, she had 15 minutes to get her ass there, fully dressed. And undressing from a full set of armour was a huge pain in the ass. She had better get to work. 

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ryder walked out of Kesh’s office in the provided dress. A thin collar wrapped around her neck, trailing down her chest to hug her waist, leaving her arms and back bare. The deep red was a sharp contrast to her tanned olive skin. 

The dress hugged her torso and waist, a slit ran all the way up her thighs on both sides, making it easy for her to move, she noted with approval. As a last act of defiance however, Ryder had kept her combat boots on rather than the provided pair of black heels. She trusted her steel-toe boots to stomp on any feet that got in her way more than any stilettos. 

Kesh was pacing outside impatiently when she arrived. “You’re late,” the krogan said flatly. “I guess that just means the crate of ryncol will stay lost.”

“No, I’m 30 seconds early.” Ryder’s eyes narrowed, glancing at her chronometer to make sure. “And you’re wearing your fucking regular armour — it’s just tinted in a new colour. Why the fuck must I wear a dress?”

“Do you think it’s easy finding formal wear for a krogan? Armour is as close to formal wear as it is,” Kesh pointed out. “And where are the heels anyway?”

“Boots are better,” Ryder replied as if it was an explanation at all. 

Kesh shook her head and jerked her head towards the doors. “Come on, Tann is probably about to give his speech.”

Ryder swallowed the sigh that filled her chest. The music was the first to hit her as the doors opened. It’s probably some new age mix of salarian neo-pop and asari jazz. Next came the noise, people conversing, utensils clinking as they drank and ate the bounty of the outposts. All eyes turned to her. She swore the conversation in the room quietened down at her entrance. 

_What the fuck? The dress is fine isn’t it? The combat boots aren’t all that strange._

“I think the issue is the pistol you have strapped to your thigh,” Kesh pointed out as she stepped up to Ryder’s side. 

Ryder rolled her eyes. “A Pathfinder never goes anywhere unarmed.”

Hover-cams from the press zipped close and their flashes went off incessantly. Her frown deepened and flashed a middle finger at them before making a beeline towards the bar. She was going to need a shit load of regular alcohol if she wasn’t allowed to punch whoever who pissed her off. 

“Whatever you have as long as it’s the strongest,” she said as she leaned against the counter and proceeded to pour cup after cup of the liquid fire down her throat. 

The podium was empty and here Kesh was telling her the speech was going to start soon. Frankly she would rather arrive _after_ the speech was done, at least that way she wouldn’t have to work overtime for quite so long. 

The entire Leadership was there. Tann, dressed in a formal suit- the Moshae got away easy with traditional angara garbs, even Addison had put on a dress for the occasion, but Kandros had stuck to his regular armour albeit coloured differently to match Kesh’s. Were they each other’s dates hence the matching colours or had they just used the same person to tint their armour and they only have black and white paints? 

_I could have probably gotten away with wearing my armour._

Another cup slid to her side. As she picked it up, a hand stilled her wrist. Ryder reacted the way she usually would when someone touched her without consent, her free hand jerked up, quickly forming a fist, ready to show what she thought of meddling assholes. But before she powered her fist forward, she caught sight of a familiar jawline, dusky skin and a pair of keen sharp eyes. 

_Maybe the party won’t be as boring as I feared after all._

“Fuck, Carlyle,” she growled, pulling her fist back. “Don’t you know not to startle a soldier?”

He raised both his hands up, looking not the slightest bit shaken at almost having his jaw taken off his face. She sighed for the umpteenth time that hour. Her eyes raked over his form, well toned muscles were hidden behind the well cut tuxedo, his hair coiffed as usual. The combination of it all made heat flush across her chest. She allowed a small tug at her lips as she brought the cup towards her mouth. 

Caryle’s hand came down on her wrist again to intervene. Her eyes narrowed, but he was undeterred. Leaning towards her, his cheek flushed against hers, his breath tickling her ear, “Not too much.”

“It’s boring, Carlyle. I need this.”

“And all the others you’ve drank?”

“Yes, all six of them,” Ryder replied evenly. “I might as well drink on the Director’s credits.” She lifted her cup and toasted in Kesh’s direction. The krogan’s frown was felt from across the room. Kesh had only told her to be here, she hadn’t specified how Ryder should behave. 

The bartender cleared his throat. “Actually, these will be billed to the respective patrons.”

Ryder growled a wordless noise of frustration while Carlyle chuckled. His low and husky rumble sent jolts down to her core. “Our Director is a penny pincher,” he remarked.

Her eyes flashed and met his hazel ones. Something familiar danced in them, things she recognised that must have been reflected in her own — lust. He smiled, the barest of upward lift to his lips, a small flash of his teeth. Leaning over again, he whispered, “I will make it un-boring for you later, so don’t drink too much.”

Her smile curved to match his, and she drained the cup before pushing it back towards the bartender. A quick tap on her omni-tool, and the rather exorbitant bill was settled. “Why not now?”

Carlyle jerked his chin towards the stage as Tann’s voice came over the speakers. “Hello? Hello. Yes, thank you everyone for coming to the second anniversary of Ark Hyperion’s arrival to Andromeda. I hope everyone is enjoying the party?”

Ryder groaned softly. “All the more reason for it to be now.”

“Have a little patience, Pathfinder,” he replied as he leaned against the counter next to her. “I hear waiting makes the climax that much better.”

Another wordless growl of frustration, and she settled in to ignore everything that was happening on stage, letting her eyes drift across the crowds, noting on the number of angara guests among them. Tann’s boring little speech washed over her. It was working so well until she heard her name being called. 

“Sara Ryder,” Tann called, the look he shot her indicated it wasn’t the first time he was calling for her. He cleared his throat, “Will the human Pathfinder, Sara Ryder, come up and say a few words?”

Carlyle nudged her. She flashed him a look. He jabbed a finger in the direction of the stage. Reluctantly, she walked over, her eyes seeking Kesh’s. Despite Kesh’s bulk she managed to hide behind the much shorter Addison rather effectively. Tann cleared his throat and started clapping slowly. The audience took the hint and joined in. Ryder stepped up to the podium while he retreated to the others. 

Ryder didn’t have stage fright. Addressing crowds wasn’t a problem, the issue was what the fuck was she expected to say? She gripped the edges of the podium and glared at Kesh again. If looks could kill, Kesh would be dead. The krogan’s smile just widened a little more. 

_Fuck. That ryncol better be extra strong._

Ryder closed her eyes for a second, marshalling enough self control so that the urge to march out was reined in. Taking a deep breath, her lips parted slightly and—

A blast went off. 

* * *

Carlyle tugged on his tux, straightening the already straight bow. The press’ hover-cams whirled to life for a split second before they were diverted to more interesting things. Harry Carlyle the doctor wasn’t exciting in the slightest. 

He cast his eyes on the crowd. Everyone were occupied with mingling and chatting. It was sea of mostly blacks and whites weaved between each other. Clearly these colours were favoured by the attending turians and salarians and the rare few krogans. Asaris stuck to mostly blues. Their clothes probably shimmered in the UV spectrum, something his human eyes couldn’t admire. The angaras were the most colourful ones mingling amongst them. 

But his eyes were drawn to the lone figure in red. 

Sara Ryder was getting the bartender’s attention by thumping her empty cup against the counter. She hunched over her fresh refill. The sight of her never failed to light a fire in his belly, but he was surprised to see her here. This was exactly the type of event she would avoid like the plague. She had missed the first anniversary party on account of Tann _accidentally_ forgetting to invite her after that interview she did with the porn magazine. All of the other moral-boosting parties Tann liked to thrown whenever he thought his approval rating was just a bit too low, she had managed to find herself on mission half way across the cluster. It seemed Tann’s reach had stretched long for this one. 

He walked over savouring the stark milky white plane of Ryder’s bared back. It was a sharp contrast against the red shimmering fabric that wrapped around her waist. Her blonde hair was pulled into a rough bun, wisps of hair having escaped her best efforts. Musculature shifted under her skin, hinting at the soldier lurking under the dress. He smiled, a small one, one that the unfamiliar would have missed, as he walked towards the Pathfinder. 

It never took much to rile Ryder up. They had known each other for a long time. The dance between them was old and familiar. It was a one night stand that stretched into this strange coming together and pulling apart. He had thought her father’s death had been the end of that, but it seemed Ryder couldn’t stay away for long either. The young soldier turned Pathfinder, shouldering the mantle her father had left her. But she was still very much the same woman he knew back in the Milky Way, reckless and impulsive. 

A couple of words between them and the fire in his gut flowed downwards. He sighed in anticipation. Ryder had been kept really busy since the Archon’s death, and it had been months since she saw fit to blast into his life. The peace was nice ,but it was a little too quiet, too mundane. As she made her way up the stage, her gait all stiff and jerky from being forced to make an impromptu speech, he admired the way the dress split to show her legs, yet he was more amused than aroused at the pistol she had strapped there. 

But that all went out of his head when the blast went off. The impact rocked the room and set the guests screaming. Carlyle couched down next to the bar counter, his eyes darted to the stage as his heart clenched with worry when flames and shrapnel swept across it. 

_Ryder!_

Before he could react, a blue so intense he had to squint wrapped over the stage. His breath was literally taken away. Flames rolled over the shimmering azure shield and at the centre of it stood Ryder. Her eyes blazing with fury, she drew her pistol with her free hand. He couldn’t hear what she was saying over the frightened stampede of guests. But judging by her the way she jerked her head, commands were being issued. 

Carlyle blinked and his lungs remembered how they worked. It had never really hit him that this was exactly what Ryder faced every single day. 

“Vesagara!” That’s when the gunfire started. The colourfully clad angara guests screamed as they started firing into the crowd. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

Heart thumping faster than he thought was possible, Carlyle scrambled behind the counter and huddled next to the bartender. “First aid kit,” he barked over the din. 

The turian blinked at him. 

Carlyle growled but mastered himself. There was no point in scaring the civilian more than he already was. “First aid kit, do you have one?” he repeated himself. 

The turian started quickly rummaging through the drawers while Carlyle took a peek out. Some of the wounded were being dragged to safety by fellow guests, others just lay where they fell, blood pooling around them. 

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, this was one thing he had missed when he stepped down from the Tempest, the sheer rush being on the battlefield, where life and death was measured in mere seconds. 

“Here,” the turian stammered, shoving a small sealed first aid kit into his hands. 

Carlyle took one glance at it, recognising the maker of said kit. It would contained medi-gel safe for all Milky Way species, hemostatic dressing, a roll of splint tape, simple analgesic drugs and a pair of sterile gloves. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. 

Checking once more to make sure the coast was relatively clear, he darted towards the first victim heedless of the mayhem around him. Gloves were quickly donned as he made a quick visual examination. The victim was an turian clutching her arm that was most definitely bent at a wrong angle. 

“Can you walk?” he asked urgently, triggering his omni-tool for a quick scan to make sure he wasn’t missing anything from the visual examination. 

“I think so,” she replied, her mandibles pressed tight against her face. 

The screams and cries were mostly subsiding as the guests took to hiding as best they could. Only the muffled groans from the wounded remained. A voice rose above all that, shouting commands. The solid thump of biotics being slung across the air rang out. 

“Get into cover!” Ryder cried as she threw a barrier over them. 

Carlyle risked a glance at her. She stood with her hand splayed wide as she fired her pistol with an unerring aim. Their eyes met. The hair at the back of his neck stood. He gulped as the air crackled. It wasn’t fear. A buzz of something ran down his spine. This was the excitement, this was awe. 

This wasn’t the young woman he knew back in the Milky Way, ill tempered and estranged from her parents. This is not a soldier in over her head when the Pathfinder mantle fell on her shoulders. This was Sara Ryder, in control, in her element and powerful. This was the Pathfinder, and this was her job. Judging by the small smile that was tugging at her lips, the party had just got a whole lot more interesting.

He didn’t think he could desire Ryder more, after all they were familiar with how each other ticked. It wasn’t fresh and exciting like a new woman he’d pick up from a bar might feel. But here and now, Ryder blazing with the power of a thousand suns, striking and confident, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish to take her on the spot in the middle of the firefight. And all that from the briefest of eye contact. 

“Go!” this time the command wasn’t directed at him but at the braver guests who had ventured out to help other victims. The barrier extended to cover them as well.

Carlyle turned his concentration back to the victim before him. It was safer for him to tend to the broken limb once they were out of the line of fire. Offering his arm, he helped the turian up and they staggered towards the relative safety of the bar. 

_Where the fuck are the Nexus security and Kandros?”_

There was no time to worry about it. He had his hands full of panicked guests. His main goal was to get as many of them out of the crossfire. Victims with more serious injuries were herded behind the counter. Ryder’s barrier wasn’t going to hold forever, he had to make it work as best he could. As he was helping a rather shaky Tann towards the growing group of guests behind the bar counter, she was one of the last few caught in the open, a cry, harsh and guttural, sliced through the air. The sound was swiftly silenced as if the mere sound of pain was an affront to its owner. 

Ryder’s barrier shattered. She limped quickly to take cover behind a pillar, dragging a bleeding Addison as she went. Hurriedly, he handed Tann over to one of the others as they neared the bar. Checking his first aid kit, it was mostly depleted, but he couldn’t just leave Ryder out there. From the streak of red left by Addison, he could tell she was bleeding heavily. Hopefully she hadn’t had one of her major arteries compromised. 

Ryder’s chest was heaving hard and heavily as she shoved another heatsink into her pistol. Even if she was a biotic, fighting without her armour was foolhardy, it was amazing she hadn’t gotten more hurt. Carlyle’s jaw tightened. With her leg bleeding, he wasn’t sure she’d be able to get both Addison and herself to safety, not without help. Kandros wasn’t there, all other combatants were the Roekaar. 

_She needs help._

One of the others pressed a single use pack of medi-gel into his hand. Carlyle nodded his thanks. His arrival at her side was met with a terse, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Carlyle didn’t deign to reply. He crouched down next to her behind the pillar. His attention was focused on Addison. Her dress was covered in blood, but a quick scan revealed that she wasn’t bleeding out — she was merely coated in blood from the other victims. Addison didn’t need any medical attention at all. He sighed, relieved and pissed off at the same time. Carlyle switched his attention over to Ryder who was the one actually wounded. Blood was trailing down her left leg, like a red river cutting through a fertile soil. Her breath came in controlled pants as she slammed another heatsink into her pistol. 

_Where the fuck has she been keeping them?_

It didn’t matter, his focus was on her wound. Parting her dress so he could find the actual wound, he said, “Hold still.”

The moment the words came out of his mouth, he felt a yank on his collar, nearly choking him. Ryder shoved him against the pillar, pressing him against the trembling Addison. Anger flared. Then, he realised what he was looking at. A Roekaar had flanked them and she had put herself between them and the Roekaar. Her barrier formed up in a flash, but there was the telltale grunt of effort as her frown deepened. Bullet after bullet thudded against it. With each impact her breathing got harsher and more laboured. Sweat collected at her chin, more blood leaked from her wound. Carlyle could do nothing but watch with his heart in his mouth, helpless. 

“Get behind me,” she growled, weathering the impacts. 

Carlyle was neither stupid or prideful. He shifted quickly behind Ryder, pulling Addison with him. Addison whimpered as her fingers dug into his arm. There was nowhere else they could go, not with the Roekaar flanking them. Where there was one, there was always more. How much more of this could Ryder’s barrier take? This was obviously taking a toll on her even if it’s invisible to the uninitiated. Her breathing grew louder as her hand shook and her shoulders hunched tighter. The pistol was long discarded, heatsinks spent. 

The doors that separated escape from certain death slid open. Kandros and his security forces poured in, firing on the Roekaar. Relief swept over Carlyle like it was a drink of cool water on a hot day. Ryder was already acting while he was trying to master his adrenaline jitters. It had been too long since he was out on the field. 

Ryder grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the bar, trusting him to grab Addison, where the rest of the guests were. Pushing and herding them ahead of her, she took the opportunity to swipe one of the fallen Roekaars’ rifles and covered Carlyle’s less than dignified retreat. 

Kandros’ team swept up the outnumbered Roekaar with ease. The guests cheered when he announced that it was safe again. The emergency medical team descended upon them and was quickly triaging the wounded and sending the critical ones to the medical wing immediately. He stepped away, after making sure there was adequate manpower to handle the victims, only to hear Ryder’s voice rose over the general noise. 

“Fucking hell, how hard is it to get me a set of armour?” she asked, her voice hard and sharp. 

Kandros frowned and turned to one of his people. “Renok, see to it.” The soldier hurried away to obey. Kandros clasped Ryder by the shoulder, “Ryder, I’m not letting you come if you’re bleeding.”

Carlyle walked over, a flare of something urgent tightened in his gut. His gaze was honed in on Kandros’ hand where it rested on Ryder’s shoulder. He stepped up to them, reaching out to claim her other arm, “Kandros is right. Let me tend to your wound.”

Kandros turned to regard him, sniffing the air lightly. He let go of Ryder’s shoulder like he was burnt. Nodding tightly, he took a step back from them. “Yes, Carlyle see to her wounds. I’ll have to make sure Tann’s fine, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Carlyle didn’t know what to make of the look Kandros gave him, but Kandros’ retreat eased the clenching sensation in his gut. He turned to Ryder who was glaring daggers at him. “What the fuck Carlyle? This is merely a flesh wound,” she said, her hand gesturing curtly at the door. “There are more Roekaar that have escaped. There is no time to lose.”

Carlyle ignored her and thrusted a ration bar he’d gotten from a fresh first aid bag one of the EMTs had given him. “Eat this.”

He noted how her hand was shaking as she took the bar from him. She managed to undo the wrapper just fine so he mentally reminded himself to scan her blood sugar once he got her somewhere with a little more privacy. It was his turn to tug her along, although he was doing it far more gently than she had done to with him. 

Ryder limped along stubbornly behind him. She tossed the wrapper into the bin as he ushered her into a nearby toilet. Satisfied there was ample space. he locked the door with his omni-tool. 

Her eyes tracked his every motion. He offered her another ration bar. Her hands were significantly less shaky than before. Nodding at himself, relieved that he had staved off her biotics exhaustion. 

She leaned back against the counter, and he sank to one knee. A grin tugged at her lips, “Proposing, Carlyle?”

He snorted. The thought of marriage was the farthest thing in his mind, and the idea of marrying Ryder sent shivers down his spine, not the good kind. 

It was lucky the dress was slit all the way up to her thighs. Carlyle lifted the fabric and handed it to her. She took it without a word, munching on the bar irritably. “Get on with it.”

A groove had been dug into her left thigh. A few more inches and it would have probably hit her femoral artery, and they would be having a very different conversation, or rather none at all while he kept her from bleeding out. Just for safety’s sake he scanned her thigh anyway, making sure there wasn’t any other underlying damage. His eyes took in the readout once his omni-tool beeped. Just as he had expected, it was a graze and nothing too serious. The bleeding had mostly stopped too. 

“Are you going to do anything or just keep your hand on my leg?” Ryder asked, her voice had taken on a whole other tone, lower and huskier. 

He looked up and their eyes met. The intensity in hers was only matched by his. Heat pooled down between his legs and he could feel himself responding, but he prided himself on self control, logic and sense. As much as he wanted to just take her now, as much as she was teasing him, pushing all the right buttons, he refused to give in. 

Her lips parted, teeth showing slightly between them and lifting upwards in a show of victory. It only hardened his resolve, among other things. He broke their eye contact and directed his gaze at her thigh. It was not as compelling as her lips were right now, but _she_ had to contend with the top of his head, a far lesser prize. The growl that rumbled at the back of her throat was the icing on top. 

He pulled on a pair of gloves with a snap before breaking out the antiseptic. With practised strokes, he applied it liberally over her wound. There was no need for his usual tempered bedside manner, Ryder didn’t like being coddled, and she was eager to get on with things. He couldn’t quite tell if it was fucking in the restroom or heading off to hunt down some Roekaar. Medi-gel was next before he dressed the wound. He would have much preferred to be doing this properly in a med-bay with his equipment to prevent any kind of scarring, but he knew Ryder would escape by dint of her biotics before he could get her to listen. This was going to be as good as it got. 

He stood and found desire swimming in her eyes, deepening their colour under the harsh lights in the small space. She took a deep breath and it felt like a mask was secured over her face. There standing before him wasn’t Sara Ryder, his sometime lover, but the Pathfinder. “You have another ration bar there?” she jerked her head towards his bag. 

He found and handed it over, a little surprised at the switch. Had she always been this way, even back at the Milky Way? She was an Alliance soldier after all, trained by her father himself and had seen combat. Or was this something that she had been forced to learn after they had arrived in Andromeda? Tempered by sheer fire and stress to forge the hard edge in her countenance. 

_No._ She always had steel in her spine. She was always capable of more than she thought. 

Something shifted within him, his existing knowledge of Sara Ryder had to be corrected to fit this woman before him. And it was stroking the fires between his legs to a fever pitch. _Shit._ She was a heady mixture of competence and temptation.

Ryder stiffened and she glanced at her omni-tool. Pushing off from the counter, she unlocked the door. Objections were poised on his tongue when she took a heavy bag from Renok. “Let me get changed, I’ll be right out.”

Renok nodded, and she shut the door in his face. Turning to Carlyle, she looked at him and shrugged. She promptly started stripping. The blood stained dress tossed on the floor without care. Armour pieces were quickly clasped on and buckled down. He admired the fast proficiency she had, morphing into the Pathfinder that everyone knew. As a precaution, he decided to scan her more fully to make sure her blood sugar wasn’t quite as low as he feared initially. Her vitals looked good. Despite being in a fight for her life just mere minutes ago, she was ready to jump into the fray once more. 

Ryder was fully geared up. She tested her leg, lifting and bending it. “Thanks,” she said. “You ought to go join the others, the Nexus will probably be in lockdown for a bit while we hunt down the Roekaar. You will be safer with Tann and the others.”

Carlyle couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That was a sentence worse than death in his opinion. She triggered the holo-lock again and the door slid open to a scene of controlled chaos. Kandros’ people were present, rifles at the ready in case of a second attempt. The Leadership were talking amongst themselves, Kesh and Kandros were conspicuously missing. They were probably the ones managing this mess. Most of the wounded had since been transported to the medical wing. That’s where he should head to as well but…

He glanced at Ryder. Renok was handing her a rifle. She looked at it, her lips curling, quick fingers checked the heatsinks before she holstered it at her back. Without a backward look, she was about to head back into the fray. 

“I’m coming,” Carlyle blurted. He was as surprised as she was when the words came through. 

Her keen eyes evaluated him, raking up and down his form, but it lacked the heat from before. This was a leader gauging her subordinate. “Fine, lose that bow tie and jacket—” A vest fly towards him, he managed to catch it before he slapped him in the face. “—nice catch.”

He shedded his clothes quickly, his mind spinning circles trying to rationalise his impulsive words. It made far more sense to help out at the medical wing, but the possessive tug towards Ryder hadd reared its head, and there was no way he was going to let her go without any kind of medical backup. He fumbled with the unfamiliar straps and figured he had them done right. 

Ryder walked up to him and checked over him with a professional eye, tightening straps and checking the fit. In the end she nodded with approval. “Keep up, Carlyle,” she tossed over her shoulder, already moving on without him. He could hear the challenge in her voice, the almost smirk that tugged at her lips. His mouth curved up in response as he shouldered his bag of supplies. 

Sara Ryder morphed and changed within the spans of mere hours in Carlyle’s mind. The young woman solidified into the Pathfinder right before him, he was only too blind to see it before. But one thing had never changed, she was the fire to his ice. 


	2. Five Degrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a mess. Ryder couldn’t help but look into the crowd. “SAM, hook into the Nexus’ security system and scan the faces.”
> 
> “Understood Pathfinder,” SAM replied. 
> 
> In the time it took for her to get her stupid graze wound treated and suited up, somehow, some-fucking-how, Kandros and his men had managed to lose track of some of the Roekaar that had escaped. She sighed. They had taken down a couple of clusters that had struck other parts of the Nexus, but she had an itching feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of them. 
> 
> Sure the party had gotten a lot more exciting after the explosion, but this was a little too much. She was thinking more in terms of a bar fight and a chance to dunk Tann into the punch bowl and call it an accident. Kandros had placed the Nexus on lockdown, it was only a matter of time before they would catch them all, but Kandros was refusing to do a station wide sweep. 
> 
> “I don’t want to turn this into a witch hunt, Ryder,” he barked over the comms. “We have actual angara guests here, legit traders.” He had left the latest site of battle to regroup and plan back at APEX headquarters, leaving her with the loose ends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt fill for 'Human Shield', Harry Carlyle for rainmanmanamana_
> 
> My thanks to AinZaphir for taking on beta duties! Check out her writing at her [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AinZaphir/pseuds/AinZaphir) and [Tumblr](https://ainzaphir.tumblr.com/). 

It was a mess. Ryder couldn’t help but look into the crowd. “SAM, hook into the Nexus’ security system and scan the faces.”

“Understood Pathfinder,” SAM replied. 

In the time it took for her to get her stupid graze wound treated and suited up, somehow, some-fucking-how, Kandros and his men had managed to lose track of some of the Roekaar that had escaped. She sighed. They had taken down a couple of clusters that had struck other parts of the Nexus, but she had an itching feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of them. 

Sure the party had gotten a lot more exciting after the explosion, but this was a little too much. She was thinking more in terms of a bar fight and a chance to dunk Tann into the punch bowl and call it an accident. Kandros had placed the Nexus on lockdown, it was only a matter of time before they would catch them all, but Kandros was refusing to do a station wide sweep. 

“I don’t want to turn this into a witch hunt, Ryder,” he barked over the comms. “We have actual angara guests here, legit traders.” He had left the latest site of battle to regroup and plan back at APEX headquarters, leaving her with the loose ends. 

She rolled her eyes, not at all agreeing with his assessment. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand the sentiment, but she couldn’t see it ending well either with this tense air. To go slow meant it would only be a matter of time someone took the situation into their own hands. 

“It’s far better to hit them hard and fast before things escalate,” she growled, her eyes scanning the crowd. Maybe SAM would give her actionable intel soon. She didn’t care if this was _technically_ Kandros’ jurisdiction. As usual, there was a problem, she would fix it. 

“Ryder, I don’t want to incite more panic than there already is. Tann wants this to be kept as low key as possible. He’s already crawling down my throat about how this happened in the first place,” Kandros’ voice buzzing with frustration. “Just await for my orders.” 

Ryder took a deep breath, ready to make her case again. She was trying to give what meagre diplomatic skills she had a chance to work, trying to be a little more reasonable, a little more Pathfinder-y, but Kandros was making it near impossible to keep her temper. 

“Do not do anything stupid,” the connection went dead. 

She blew a breath from between clenched tight teeth and resisted the urge to slam her fist into the nearest wall, but a frustrated growl rumbled dangerously at the back of her throat anyway. 

“Ryder,” Carlyle called out. 

She looked up from her omni-tool. How the fuck Carlyle managed to work so comfortably in a tux was beyond her. She certainly didn’t enjoy fighting in her dress earlier. But the contrast between the black bullet proof vest and the white shirt made him that much more attractive. Her eyes roved over his arms. Now that his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a little of the ink he usually kept hidden under his white and red Initiative uniform, she could admire the musculature underneath that expanse of dusky skin. Maybe she should have taken advantage of the privacy of that toilet earlier…

“Ryder, we’re done here,” Carlyle said as he approached. “But I’ll have to grab more supplies.”

She nodded. He had kept up, there hadn’t been any need to slow down for him. He knew when to stay out of the way, waiting for her signal before hurrying to treat the wounded. At no point did he get himself into a stupid situation. They were in lock step with each other. She swallowed a sigh, wishing some of her crew could work this well with her. 

“Here,” he tossed her another ration bar. 

She caught it, fumbling a little. Her jaw tightened. When she was rushing into the fray, adrenaline coursing through her veins, biotics buzzing under her skin, she felt so alive. Coming down from it felt like crashing from a drug high. Her fingers were shaking as she tore the wrapper. Nodding her thanks, she bit into it. When the taste hit her tongue, she was surprised Carlyle stocked the kind she liked. 

“I’ll radio to figure out where to meet later,” he said, jogging slightly. 

Ryder nodded and looked at the clean up crew clearing away all signs of battle, mopping up the mingled blood of red, blue and whatever else, buffing out dents and burns made from gunfire and biotics. Wiping it all away and making it look perfect, just the way Tann liked it. 

“Pathfinder,” SAM chimed up as she stood to toss the wrapper into a recycler. “I’ve detected one of the Roekaar heading towards the docks.”

She stiffened. Kandros’ people had already cleared out, dragging Roekaar that they had taken alive back to the holding cells for questioning while others escorted the victims to the medical wing. She was alone. 

It was probably better this way. It was her intel, her action to take. She’d inform Kandros as a courtesy, but she wasn’t going to sit back and wait for shit to go down. Swallowing the last bit of ration bar, she ran towards the docks. 

* * *

If Ryder thought the situation was a mess before, she was revising her assessment now. It was utter chaos. Civilians were fleeing the docks, trying to run against the flow of the traffic was near impossible. 

“Get out of the way!” she shouted, holding her rifle up as she ran. She wished she could just charge through the crowd and bowl them all over just so she could get to the docks that much faster. But she needed to conserve her biotic stamina, she had been pushing herself since the explosion at Tann’s little party. Even now, her hand was trembling slightly inside her leather gloves. She clenched her hand and shoved the thought to the back of her mind. 

The further she went, the faster the place was emptying out. Her boots echoed against the sealed walkway. She recognised where it was leading. The walkway would open out to the cargo docks ahead. Unlike the regular berth the Tempest got, where it was flanked by clean, white and shiny blocks that made up of the visible parts of the Nexus, the shuttle docks were far from the gleaming ideals. This was where the real work got done. It reminded her days with the Alliance, working on her squad’s Mako when she wasn’t out on missions. Hover-carts were abandoned along the walkways, crates of supplies prepped to be shipped out to the outposts spilling its contents all over. Cryo-sealed boxes of Milky Way seeds, tubes that carried genomes of domesticated animals were all broken and trampled on in the haste as people rushed for safety. 

“Fucking Roekaar!” she growled through laboured breaths. “SAM, where are they now?”

“Further ahead, at berth 93F.”

She scanned the numbers as she ran. “55, 63, 71,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried along. 

“Please don’t kill us!” a voice cried out as she leapt over an overturned cart. A turian lay curled up against a large planter box while his salarian partner stood brandishing a wrench at her. 

Ryder frowned. “Do I look like a Roekaar?”

The salarian blinked. “I don’t know what’s going on except someone was firing a rifle at us. What the fuck is a Roekaar anyway?” She jabbed her wrench in Ryder’s direction. 

Ryder sighed. Secrecy had its limits. This time Tann had taken it too far. He had kept vital information from the regular citizens of the Nexus and now they were fucking unprepared. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her eyes darted between the pair and berths 80 and beyond that lay before her. 

The salarian regarded her with narrowed eyes before gasping. “You’re the Pathfinder!” 

“Yes, yes, are you fucking hurt? Get your asses out of here if you can walk.”

The salarian turned to her partner. “Fausus is shot, a doctor treated him, but it’s still too painful to walk,” she explained. 

Fausus groaned as he tried to stand. “Valisa, you should go, it’s not safe here. I’ll follow as best I can,” he said. 

Ryder watched as the pair struggled for a few seconds. Bandages were wrapped around the turian’s calf where one of his spurs had broken off. Someone had already treated the turian. A growl of frustration rumbled in her chest. Pulling one of her medi-gel vials from her armour, she injected the contents right into Fausus’ leg without ceremony. He yelped. 

“There,” she announced. “That should tide you over for a bit. APEX troops should be coming your way.”

“What the hell—” Valisa snapped. 

But the rest of her words were consumed by the explosion that rocked the docks. Ryder pulled up a barrier instantly, wrapping it around all three of them. As soon as the initial rumble subsided, she dropped it. One look at both of them, she growled. “Go. Now.”

Ryder ran. The closer she got to her goal, the more dead she found. “SAM, tell Kandros to send his people down to the docks now!”

* * *

“SAM do you have eyes on the Roekaar?” Ryder hissed. 

“No, Pathfinder, the security cameras have all been deactivated, but nobody had entered or left Berth 93F in the past five minutes before they were disabled.”

She unholstered her rifle and checked the heatsink by reflex. Everything looked good. As she neared, she could hear a voice behind the airlock where it opened out into the berth. 

“Got you fucker,” she growled. Slamming her palm against the holo-lock, she rolled in and brought her rifle up, ready to fire. Then, she hesitated. 

Carlyle was standing in front of her, arms raised above his head. His face took on a stony set but his eyes were wider than usual. Ryder read the suppressed fear in them. The Roekaar stood behind him, his pistol pressed against the side of Carlyle’s head. But more importantly, the Roekaar had rows and rows of black sticks stuck to his own chest. _Explosives._ Ryder sucked in a breath as she recognised what they were. _That’s the stuff they had used at the party._

With the Roekaar having an entire chestful of the stuff, standing so close to the exterior walls of the Nexus was more than dangerous; it was deadly. If all of it went off at once, there was a good chance it might start a cascading depressurisation effect. The death toll would be in the hundreds or thousands. 

Ryder shouted, “The game is up! Give up!” 

She pressed forward, eyes taking in the handful of dockworkers that failed to escape in time. They were huddled together behind a couple of larger crates in the midst of being emptied out. And Carlyle… What the fuck was he doing here? Didn’t he say he was going to get more supplies? His medical bag was splayed out on the ground next to one of the injured dockworkers. That was answer enough. 

Her jaw tightened and quickly appraised Carlyle, her heart tightened horribly inside her chest. There was a reason why he had left the Tempest, this wasn’t where he belonged. Blood ran down one side of his face, a cut at his brow staining his white shirt red. His brow pulled tight as their eyes met. She could read anger, frustration and chagrin in his eyes. 

_Good, good, no fear. That’s good._

“SAM,” she whispered urgently. “Tell Kandros it’s a hostage situation. Priority red, repeat priority red. Station wide depressurisation risk.”

“Understood Pathfinder,” SAM replied and they went silent. 

The Roekaar sneered. “Give up? When I’ve got the upper hand?” He brought the butt of the pistol down to the back of Carlyle’s head. Carlyle fell to his knees with a cry. 

Ryder’s teeth ground against each other as she moved slowly and deliberately towards the dockworkers, placing herself between the Roekaar and them. If the fucker decided to shoot, she’d be able to deploy a barrier to shield them. “What do you want?”

“A shuttle and safe passage.” The Roekaar jerked his head at the shuttle behind him. 

There were signs of hacking attempts on the holo-lock, unsuccessful ones. It was glitching between an angry red and an odd yellow. “Let the others go,” she countered, “as a show of good faith.”

“How about you drop that rifle as a show of good faith first?” he countered, yanking Carlyle back to his feet, taking care to keep Carlyle between them. 

Ryder grimaced. She could charge in and take the Roekaar by surprise, but she didn’t know where the trigger was. It was a risk she couldn’t take. This was beyond just a handful of hostages and Carlyle. 

“SAM. what’s Kandros’ ETA?”

“8 minutes and 32 seconds,” SAM replied via their private channel. 

_Too long._ She would have to stall for time. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. “Fine.” She dropped the rifle to the ground. “Your turn.”

A wicked grin split the Roekaar’s face. “Kick it over here.”

Mastering her temper, she kicked the rifle over to the opposite end of the direction indicated. “Oops,” she replied, deadpan. “Your fucking turn.”

A frown twisted Carlyle’s face as he braced for another blow, but it didn’t come. The Roekaar laughed instead, “The vesagara has a sense of humour.”

Ryder kept her eyes trained on the Roekaar, doing her best to figure out where the trigger was. Her eyes narrowed. The Roekaar kept his right hand hidden between Carlyle and himself, just out of her sight. He waved his pistol carelessly around as he gestured with it. The trigger, it seemed, was in his right hand. 

“Fine, why not?” the Roekaar said. “They can run, but they can’t hide anyway, if I don’t get what I want, the entire station will go boom.”

She turned to the handful of dockworkers and growled, “Go.”

They didn’t need more prompting as they scurried towards the exit. In the midst of her distraction, she heard a cry from Carlyle. Spinning back, the air had seemingly rushed out of her lungs as fear grabbed her throat. 

The Roekaar held his arm up in triumph. “This one I’m not letting go,” he announced. One end of a shimmering orange cuff encircled the Roekaar’s wrist and the other around Carlyle’s. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She should have listened to her instincts and charged in right away. This was not right. Her eyes met Carlyle’s again, fear was creeping into his hazel orbs, tinging them a darker colour. Her eyes darted between the Roekaar and Carlyle, the trigger and the explosives. She had plenty of ideas, only none of them were good. 

“A shuttle?” she called out, standing with her arms loose by her side. She wasn’t about to give the Roekaar satisfaction by holding her arms up. With the amount of explosives in play, holding her hands up was a meaningless gesture. 

“Yes, this one,” the Roekaar growled as he jerked his head towards the shuttle behind him, “and safe passage,” 

“Just you?” she asked, stalling for time, stepping closer for every step the Roekaar shifted back. 

“Yes, I’m not stupid enough to lay down my life for this cause. My life is worth more than that,” the Roekaar growled. 

“All right,” she replied easily, trying to look relaxed despite the tension gripping her chest. 

“All right?” the Roekaar blinked, he took a large step back as his back thumped against the shuttle’s locked door. Carlyle was forced to follow.

Her keen eyes picked up on how Carlyle was favouring one of his legs, limping lightly. It didn’t look broken, probably a sprain, nothing life threatening. _Good, good, good._

“Ryder,” Kandros’ voice came into her ear. “We’re getting into position.”

She swallowed her sigh of relief. For all of Kandros’ faults of being too cautious, this was when she wanted him to be his usual cautious self. A flash of Carlyle, ashen and still, lying on the same bed Scott did while he was comatose, pressed hard against her mind. She shook her head to clear the image. 

A possessiveness she didn’t know she had rose in her gut. The cut on his brow, the way he was limping, the wince he made whatever the Roekaar tugged at him, crystallised into white hot anger. Fury took hold in her lungs, burning her from the inside out. Nobody messed with her people. She wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him. Caution was key. 

Ryder coughed, indicating she was listening. 

“We are getting snipers into position. Stall him.”

Sniping the Roekaar would only solve one problem. “Trigger,” she muttered under her breath tightly. 

“I’ve got eyes on it. It’s a dead man’s switch in his right hand. I’m relying on you to keep it from going off. The entire Nexus is at stake here, Ryder,” Kandros said.

 _Fuck._ There was only one chance to get this right. Her hands curled into fists before she forced herself to relax. “Sure,” she lifted her chin. “You want out, I want you gone. That’s win-win.”

“What about safe passage?”

She shrugged. “I can guarantee you the shuttle, safe passage might need some working on.”

“Hey! Are you taking this seriously?” the Roekaar shouted, slamming the butt of the pistol against Carlyle’s head over and over. 

It was all Carlyle could do to block the blows with his arms, crying out against the abuse. Ryder forced a grin on her face. “Come on, why don’t we get you that shuttle first?”

“Get him to turn, Ryder. Carlyle’s blocking the shot,” Kandros muttered. “Sniper is on standby.”

A deep breath pulled through her nostrils and hissed out of her mouth through lips pressed thin. The unspoken words rang loud in her ears. Kandros couldn’t possibly hold off shooting the Roekaar indefinitely, not when the lives of everyone on the Nexus was at stake. Carlyle’s life for the rest was a cheap bargain, even she could see that, but… 

_Not on my fucking watch._

Ryder stepped closer without bothering to hide her intentions. “Come on, I’ll hack the shuttle door for you while we get started on negotiating for safe passage.”

The Roekaar’s eyes darted around, he was scanning for Kandros’ men, seeking them out. If he spotted any of them, the game was fucking up. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting Carlyle killed, she’d be too dead herself. 

“Hey, hey,” she shouted, stepping quickly onto the gangway that led to the shuttle. “Come on, I’m trying to do you a favour here, get into the shuttle, it’s safer than standing out here right?”

“Ryder,” Kandros’ warning growl rumbled in her ear. “What are you doing?”

She ignored him. “SAM, how many degrees does the sniper need?” she asked as she studied the Roekaar’s response. 

“Five degrees to the left, Pathfinder,” SAM replied instantly. 

Thankfully Kandros must have picked up what she was doing, or maybe SAM had explained it to him. Either way she didn’t care, step by step she inched closer. 

The Roekaar’s lips curled with mistrust, but he had very little choice. He had no friends here. Grabbing Carlyle’s collar with the hand holding onto the trigger, he pulled him closer, leaving no space between them. Carlyle’s eyes bulged at the tightened hold around his neck, cutting off his air. He struggled, twisted and fought only to be clubbed at the back of his head a couple more times. 

“Hey, hey!” Ryder shouted, getting both their attention. 

The Roekaar’s pistol was aimed square at her chest. She wasn’t worried about herself, she had armour and her barrier. It was the way Carlyle’s eyes were wide and wild that was making her anxious. She ignored the muzzle in her face to look at Carlyle, meeting his eyes. When they met, his fear had tipped over to barely contained panic. She held his gaze. “I’m going to get you out.”

If anyone else was there, they would have said she sounded completely and utterly confident, but that wasn’t how she felt. The adrenaline that had nowhere to go had left her hands jittery or maybe that was the crash from biotic exhaustion. She couldn’t say. Carlyle had been silent throughout the entire ordeal and being so out of control was probably freaking him out, but in that moment, when he nodded, she stood straighter. 

“I will get you out,” Ryder repeated. 

Carlyle nodded again. 

She turned her attention back to the Roekaar and folded her arms across her chest, chin tipped up. “So what will it be?”

“How about you die?” the Roekaar taunted. 

“1.76 degrees,” SAM reported. 

“Ha!” she laughed loudly, throwing her hands in the air, tossing her blonde hair back. “Come on shoot me then. You can negotiate with the next person they send.”

“2.48 degrees.”

The Roekaar’s eyes widened at her audacity, but he just settled for shaking Carlyle some more. Ryder kept a keen eye on the trigger . 

“3.75 degrees.”

“Don’t force my hand,” he growled, firing at the gangway. 

Ryder stiffened, but she made herself step forward. “That’s all you’ve got? Shooting fucking furniture?”

“4.27 degrees.”

The Roekaar snarled. Carlyle saw what she was trying to do, he pushed his captor one direction and twisted the other as best as he could. 

“7.27—”

She acted. Blazing bright like an avenging angel clad in blue flames, her omni-blade buzzed to life. With one clean stroke, she severed the cuff that bind Carlyle to the Roekaar. She shoved Carlyle roughly behind her. A boom filled her ears as the Roekaar’s head exploded into a mess of indigo, white and grey, splashing her entire front with blood and gore. Ryder tossed a barrier over Carlyle, it was probably a futile gesture. The small black trigger tumbled from the Roekaar’s lax fingers onto the ground, bouncing along the gangway. Scrambling towards it, heart in her throat, the echo of the rifle’s boom filling her ears, she dove for the trigger. 

She caught it. 

* * *

Carlyle’s head was throbbing, a magnificent contusion was developing at the base of his skull. With the way his pulse filled his ears, he feared a concussion, but he wasn’t showing any of the other symptoms. Maybe he had escaped with only a headache.

Ryder hovered close, speaking to Kandros, debriefing him. Sweat beaded at her brow, darkening her blonde hair and plastering it to her forehead. She had been breathtaking. Cool, calm and professional, altogether different from the woman he knew. He thought he knew, he corrected. And if it wasn’t for the headache, he would be really turned on by it. 

She glanced his way, their eyes met for a brief moment before a bright light flared in his eye. The paramedic was shining a flashlight into his eye. “Fuck,” he cursed as he squeezed them shut. 

“Sensitivity to light,” she muttered and noted it in her file. “When the emergency vehicle is back, you’re taking the next one out.”

“Fine, fine,” he growled. “Just get that fucking light out of my face.”

She huffed. “You’d think a doctor would understand why I’m doing this,” the paramedic muttered under her breath, but she relented and shuffled away. 

Carlyle watched with baleful eyes as the paramedic approached Ryder, speaking to Kandros and pointing at the Pathfinder. He snorted. If she had no luck with him, she’d have a worse time with Ryder. Just as he had expected, Ryder shook her head and the paramedic practically scurried away. He chuckled and immediately regretted it, pressing his fingers against his temples, attempting to hold his brain inside his skull.

It had been a long fucking day. The party started at noon, he had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening running around with Ryder. It was just his fucking luck to stumble upon the Roekaar. He rubbed his forehead and glanced at the darkening sky, the Nexus was well into the night cycle. He didn’t think he would be seeing his bed anytime soon. 

“Carlyle,” the paramedic called out, dragging a gurney behind her with her partner. “Come on, let’s get you checked out.”

He glared at the gurney and felt a cold wash of frustration. “I can walk,” he declared and forced himself to his feet. The sudden change from sitting to standing made him woozy. He stumbled and threw his hands out only to find a pair of strong arms around him. 

Ryder looked at him flatly. “Don’t be stubborn.”

His lips curled ready to toss back a retort, but he found he was being steered towards the gurney. There was no way he couldn’t stomach the indignity of having Ryder help him onto it. He was going to get on it by his own power, damnit. She watched him, arms folded across her chest with a smirk on her lips. 

In the end, the last he saw of Ryder was her looking right at him as the paramedics loaded him into the emergency sky-vehicle. Then, he was trapped in the medical wing for hours. The staff were already taxed to capacity by the initial incident let alone the subsequent ones. He was on the low end of priority and for that he was grateful. 

Over and over again, it played behind his closed eyes, Ryder standing up against the Roekaar, audacious, reckless but also bold, fearless and brave. He had twisted to look up at her after she cut the cuff. His heart was beating so fast he was a little light hearted. He was so sure things would go terribly wrong when the boom of a rifle went off, but shimmering between them was a barrier around him, she had left herself out of it. How could she stand between him and certain death without hesitation? But never had she looked more powerful and impressive. This day had been one surprise after another from Ryder. He was just trying to process this new Ryder before his eyes. 

By the time he was released, with a stern warning to take himself back to the medical wing if he threw up, it was past midnight. He sighed and trudged out of the restricted access ward. 

“Done?” a familiar voice asked. 

He blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Ryder replied, pushing off the wall and stretched. Her spine popping as she did so. She was still in her armour. It didn’t look like she had any kind of rest at all.

 _How long had she been waiting?_ He frowned. “Why?”

She returned the frown ten fold. “Why does it matter?”

Carlyle shrugged, and they walked side by side towards the trams. He had been given a private room at one of the residential wings as temporary residence for the night. As they boarded the empty tram, he settled into a seat with a sigh. 

“Are you all right?” Ryder asked. Her tone was even oddly sincere. 

_She cares?_ Carlyle couldn’t really wrap his head around this realisation. 

“No concussion, just a headache. I’ve taken some painkillers, I’m fine.”

The reply tugged her lips upwards and she grinned. It was altogether wicked and lascivious. “Good. Then, maybe we can get a head start?”

Their eyes met and Carlyle had a matching smile on his face. Desire sent blood down between his legs. “I thought you would never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	3. The Pathfinder’s Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder stepped out of Carlyle’s temporary housing. It was one apartment in a row of many others, yet early enough that there weren’t many people out and about. The few who were threw them odd looks, but they scuttled when she gave them a flat stare. Soon enough it was only herself and Carlyle left along the stretch of corridor. 
> 
> She turned to bid Carlyle goodbye when she heard a scruff of footsteps fast approaching. Instincts flared to life, she spun and spotted an angara fast approaching. Pink colouration covered in standard leather gear. Ryder frowned, the angara wasn’t there before. Her eyes darted about. She must have been hiding behind one of the struts that lined the corridor. 
> 
> Time slowed and sped up at the same time in a dizzying fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt fill for "Taking the bullet", Sara Ryder / Harry Carlyle for phoenike._
> 
> **WARNING FOR SMUT AT THE START OF THE CHAPTER**
> 
> Skip to "Ryder didn’t take long." to bypass the smut.
> 
> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com). 
> 
> My thanks to AinZaphir for taking on beta duties! Check out her writing at her [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AinZaphir/pseuds/AinZaphir) and [Tumblr](https://ainzaphir.tumblr.com/). 

The bed rocked against its bolts, creaking and bending, groaning and protesting. It had been centuries since beds were invented, yet two humans were still able to reduce one — no matter how sturdy — into a screaming mess of bolts and planks. Beyond the tortured furniture, there were the grunts and pants coming from Carlyle and Ryder. Flesh slapping against flesh, the high pitched hisses of breaths as he entered her over and over again. 

There was no need to speak, exactly how she liked it. Actions spoke louder than words after all. This wasn’t their first time. It was a pleasure they had shared back in the Milky Way and rekindled here in Andromeda. 

A hand pressed against her shoulder while the other fisted among her hair, holding her still, he buried himself to the hilt between her legs, taking her from behind. Ryder held onto the headboard, savouring the sensations that Carlyle was pouring into her. The tugging at her scalp, the heat of him radiating behind her. A fire lit up at her core, electricity coursing through her nerves as she lost herself to the sensations.

It chased the odd way Carlyle had been looking at her from her mind. She couldn’t decide whether or not she liked it. However, as he was stroking the fire between her legs, she couldn’t hold thoughts together long enough to think about it. It also shoved the strange twisting she had been feeling in her chest that wouldn’t abate until he trudged out of the medical ward. 

A hoarse growl came from Carlyle and she grinned, knowing he was close as well. She rocked her hips backwards to chase the crest of her own only to be met with a hard slap on her bum. The impact stung, but it only fuelled her, pushing harder against him. He stilled, his thighs trembled as he dug fingers into her sweat slicked skin. The shot of his seed sent her tumbling over the edge. Pleasure surged through her core, her muscles clenched over his length as she fell into the bed, quivering and shaking as tremors of bliss rocked her, leaving her a groaning mess.

Her hair draped over her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, surrendering to the pleasure. Carlyle tumbled against her, his chest pressed against her, his penis still pumping seed into her vagina. Hot breath danced across her neck as he panted to catch his breath. Neither spoke as they shuddered through the last waves of their climaxes. 

Carlyle shifted, reaching over to roll her onto her back. His tongue painted a path across her length of her clavicle, tracing a trail down towards her chest as his fingers sought out a nipple to pinch and rub. Ryder groaned, arching her back towards his ministrations. She wanted to indulge in yet another round, but she pressed a hand against Carlyle’s chest and pushed him away. His reaction was instantaneous, ceasing everything and sitting up away from her. He never got angry or questioned her. Consent was freely given and retracted without judgement, and it worked both ways. This was why they did well together. 

Ryder pulled herself upright and leaned forward to capture Carlyle’s mouth in a soft almost tender kiss before nipping his lips at the end. A flash of irritation flared in his eyes. She chuckled. “Much as I like going another round with you, I have work to do.”

Carlyle sighed, he sounded almost disappointed. “Well I guess I could use the rest,” he muttered. An alarm rang from the bed panel. He frowned and turned towards it. The VI chirped, “Dr. Carlyle, this is the 0700 hours morning call you requested.”

She snorted and stood languidly while he silenced the beeping and checked his omni-tool. It didn’t take long before a string of curses spewed from between his lips. 

“Tann?” she asked as she stretched, working her sore muscles. 

“He’s called a meeting, and I think you’re invited.”

Ryder shook her head. “Nope, I’m not going. I have kett outposts to shut down and a Roekaar problem to settle with de Tershaav. I’ve already done my part.”

She headed towards the shower, taking her own sweet time, feeling Carlyle’s hungry gaze against her back, knowing his eyes were raking over her naked body. She couldn’t help a satisfied smile perking up her lips. 

Ryder didn’t take long. She emerged to find Carlyle had tidied up the pieces of armour she had strewn across his temporary quarters into a crate he somehow had around. Though she hadn’t eaten a proper meal since disembarking from the Tempest beyond the random ration bars she had forced down, coupled that with no sleep. She should be operating on fumes, yet she felt fine, the glow of good sex tingling across her skin. Still, it wouldn’t do to not take care of her other needs. She resolved to grab a full meal before a little shut eye. Grabbing an Initiative hoodie and sweatpants set from Carlyle’s bag, she said, “I’m borrowing these.”

Carlyle’s response was only a wordless sigh, knowing he was never going to see them again. Pulling on his oversized clothes, she pressed the crate against her hip and made her way towards the door. He followed, leaning against the door frame with just a loose pair of pants on. 

Ryder stepped out of Carlyle’s temporary housing. It was one apartment in a row of many others, yet early enough that there weren’t many people out and about. The few who were threw them odd looks, but they scuttled when she gave them a flat stare. Soon enough it was only herself and Carlyle left along the stretch of corridor. 

She turned to bid Carlyle goodbye when she heard a scruff of footsteps fast approaching. Instincts flared to life, she spun and spotted an angara fast approaching. Pink colouration covered in standard leather gear. Ryder frowned, the angara wasn’t there before. Her eyes darted about. She must have been hiding behind one of the struts that lined the corridor. 

Time slowed and sped up at the same time in a dizzying fashion.

The angara’s arm, hidden behind her back, flashed to the front. Her fingers were wrapped around a pistol. Its aim was unerringly pointed at Carlyle. His shocked gasp hissed against Ryder’s ear. She pushed him back into the apartment and stood between the pistol and its target. She growled. Biotics hummed under her skin, blazed bright as she called for a barrier. 

The pistol bucked, its projectile sliced through the air with a sharp whistle. Ryder staggered backwards as she reached for her own pistol. “You fucking missed. Do better next time,” she snarled and fired. 

Time righted itself. Ryder wavered on her feet, feeling a little lightheaded. _It’s probably just biotic exhaustion._ She stumbled a couple of steps forward, intending to check on the angara, ensuring the Roekaar was truly down for the count. She was sure she planted a round right between their eyes. _I can’t have missed but best to make sure._

The first step was a stagger, the second a stumble. Then, the world tilted on its axis. It sent Ryder sprawling forward as her knees buckled. She would have thrown her hands out to catch herself but her limbs felt heavy. _What the fuck is going on?_

As the ground surged up to meet her, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her chest before easing her to the ground. 

“Ryder!” Carlyle’s voice was hovering on the edge of panic. 

Confusion yanked at her as she fought to sit up. Her arms refused to find any kind of purchase, the ground was slick and wet. She growled in frustration. 

“Don’t move!” he ordered and disappeared back into his apartment. 

How could he not check on the Roekaar, what if she was still alive? The thought fuelled her, forcing her to sit up. Her elbow buckled and sent her back onto the floor. Fear seized her chest. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Creeping along the edges, pain was making itself known. Carlyle’s footsteps thumped against the floor as he skidded to a halt by her side. He didn’t speak, his face taut with a tension she had only seen when he had a gun pointed to his head. 

“What happened?” she asked, the words choked at the back of her throat, and she started to cough. 

Something wet and metallic filled her mouth and flecks of red splattered as she coughed harder. Carlyle’s eyes widened. Fire seared up her entire right side, most particularly her chest. It was burning skin, scouring nerves. She groaned and struggled, the edges of panic squeezing her throat. Air was hard to come by. Every breath came with a sharp stab of pain as her heart slammed itself against her ribs. 

A snap of latex gloves jerked her attention to Carlyle. His lips were moving, but his voice was coming through a metric ton of water, echoey and far away. Something shifted in her, the sheer volume of agony was rapidly turned down. The suddenness of it all left her breathless. 

“Yes, Dr. Carlyle, managing the Pathfinder’s pain levels now,” SAM spoke up from her omni-tool. 

Carlyle nodded. “Call the emergency services, we need a vehicle here now!” he barked. “Gunshot wound to the chest, frangible bullet used, multiple entry points.” He took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against her neck. “Possible internal bleeding. Potential hypovolemic shock.”

“Understood, message relayed. ETA five minutes.”

It was all Ryder could do to breathe. Expanding her chest only to groan at the strain, every breath filling her lungs a little less. Carlyle’s face was tight with tension, but he moved with ease and confidence. It was almost as if he was dancing, albeit his stage was a bloody one. 

A pair of scissors sliced Ryder’s hoodie apart. The cool Nexus air caressed her skin as Carlyle flung the blood stained garment away, the sports bra she wore underneath met the same fate.

“I’m going to flip you,” he warned. 

She grunted, teeth biting into her lips to keep the pitiful whimper in as Carlyle pushed against her shoulder. “Fuck,” she whispered. Darkness at the edges of her vision surged, threatening to drag her down as he turned her onto her side to check for an exit wound. There was none. 

He kept a hand against her chest right where the pain was the worst, applying pressure as if he wanted to snap her ribs in half. His hazel eyes caught hers. “I’ve got you. Trust me.”

She did, but it hurt so much. Focusing her efforts on wrenching more air into her labouring lungs, she nodded. He squeezed her shoulder once before turning back to his task. 

“Administering medi-gel,” he said. 

Carlyle pulled a syringe with a needle so thick, her eyes went widened, from his supplies. The thick gauge needle slid into torn and broken flesh, passed muscles and into the rawest part of her. Her back ached and she gasped, vision tunnelling again. Then, came the rush as he depressed the plunger. The medi-gel felt so cold, it burnt. As the analgesic effect took hold, she relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Come on Ryder, hang in there. What’s a little gunshot wound?” Orange light ran over her as he scanned her vitals.

She chuckled and coughed, opening her eyes a little, her brow tightening with the effort. “Should have seen the other guy.”

“I have,” he said, maintaining pressure on her chest as he quickly scanned readings. The furrow between his brow spoke of nothing good, but she was too tired to worry. Her ability to worry had all leaked out with her blood. She could feel it soaking into her pants, coating her arms and chest. 

Carlyle straightened suddenly and shouted. “Here!”

Her awareness faded in and out as hands grabbed at her, shifting and moving her from the cold wet ground to the gurney. Carlyle’s face constantly hovered at the edge of her vision as the paramedic strapped monitors to her chest. An erratic beeping filled her ears. 

* * *

Carlyle trotted along with the paramedics only to be stopped at the door. Ryder’s ashen face disappearing beyond doors that didn’t open for him. He turned irritably at the nurse barring his way. “Sir, you cannot come through here. Please wait in the waiting area for news of your loved one.”

The term felt like a slap to his face. He straightened and glared at the nurse, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. The nurse took a faltering step backwards. He cleared his throat and mastered himself “I am not her loved one, I am her primary care doctor. She is the Pathfinder.” Taking a deep breath, his gaze’s intensity was cut in half as he triggered his credential to show on his omni-tool. 

Instead of reading the information from his omni-tool, the nurse’s eyes ran from his face down his naked chest, the bloody pants stuck to his skin, right down to his bare feet. “Her… primary care doctor?” 

If Carlyle hadn’t prided himself as a professional, he would have grabbed the turian by his shoulders and shake him. “Yes,” the word came out more like a growl. 

The turian nurse verified Carlyle’s credentials and grimaced. “I can’t let you go through in this state. Let me show you the staff showers so that you can clean up.”

By the time, Carlyle had scrubbed himself clean and tossed on a set of scrubs, he entered the emergency room to find Ryder fighting with the staff. _Why am I not surprised?_

“No,” she moaned, struggling to sit up despite bleeding all over the damned floor. 

“Sedate the patient now!” the doctor shouted as he tried to force Ryder back onto the table. 

They had removed the rest of Ryder’s clothes, her modesty protected only by a thin white sheet covering her crotch and thighs. More wires led to and from her body as the monitors were screaming all around them. 

“What’s going on?” Carlyle called out, approaching the table, glancing at Ryder’s vitals. It didn’t look good, her heart rate was skyrocketing while her blood pressure was dropping. “Has anyone done a preliminary scan?

“Yes I have, who the fuck are you?” the salarian doctor demanded. “No matter, you clearly know the patient. Her lung has collapsed and I’m trying to sedate her so that I can insert a chest tube.”

That made sense. But… his eyes met Ryder’s, hers were wide and wild. They locked onto his and refused to let go. He had to do something, she was about to tank pretty soon. 

“It’s fine, I’ll take care of you,” he said, gesturing to the nurse holding the syringe of sedatives to get ready. “But we need to sedate you. You don’t want us to start treating you without it. Please.”

Ryder took a deep breath, her strength left her limbs as she sagged back onto the table. “Fine, fine.”

Carlyle nodded and the sedatives were quickly pushed into her IV. Ryder’s eyelids fluttered, she was fighting the drug despite having given her consent. It was just her instincts. The nurse hooked the pack up to the IV stand before bustling away. He took the nurse’s spot and laid a hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

Her gaze hardened as if she was going to rebut him, but instead she went completely still, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. The salarian doctor moved quickly, tilting Ryder’s head back and pushing her mouth open with a finger. The laryngoscope slid between her teeth and the endotracheal tube was quickly introduced, its cuff inflated. The busy emergency room was filled with the hiss-click sound of a ventilator. 

Carlyle watched as a scalpel was quickly taken to Ryder’s already bloody and raw skin. Blood poured from her wound and a chest tube was shoved into it. The breath that was trapped painfully in his chest eased as Ryder’s vitals improved. 

“Prep the scanner! I want a look at where the fragments are before we open her up,” the doctor barked. He turned his attention to Carlyle. “Thank you for your help earlier. I was this close to just strapping her onto the table and getting it done.”

Carlyle snorted. “She does have that effect on people.”

* * *

Something was stabbing at the edge of Ryder’s awareness. It was insistent and loud. She groaned and turned her head away from the infernal beeping. 

“Awake, I see,” Carlyle said. 

Her brow furrowed and she peeled her eyes open. It was nearly glued shut with gunk. “What…” it was then she realised she had a mask fitted over her nose and mouth. 

The memories of what happened were fuzzy under the haze of drugs. She vaguely remembered the fantastic night she’d shared with Carlyle, but that shouldn’t have landed her in the hospital. She glared at him. He looked almost amused as he bent over to check something at the side of her bed. 

“Your urine output looks good. In fact if you weren’t just out of surgery, I’d say you’re as healthy as a horse.”

Ryder groaned again, fumbling to get the mask away from her face. It was irritating to say the least. 

Carlyle’s hand clamped down on her and pressed it into the bed. “None of that. The bullet broke apart and peppered your arm and side, puncturing your lung. So you’ll be stuck with a tube in your chest for a little while.”

She looked to her side and found a large tube trailing out from her blanket. She wasn’t even wearing a medical gown. It was just placed over her heavily bandaged chest and that was covered by a blanket. She sighed. “How long?”

Carlyle cocked his head and considered the monitors behind her. “A week maybe? Then another two for rehab and recovery.”

Ryder grunted her displeasure. She had a lot of work to do and this had derailed all her plans. The Roekaar problem was more insidious than she had initially thought. A talk with Evfra would be most vital now. 

“Thank you.”

She frowned, her future plans churning in her head as she looked at Carlyle. “What are you talking about?”

“For taking the bullet.” 

That weird look had returned to his eyes. It was oddly intense, but it lacked the lust she usually associated with it. Was it pride? She shook the idea from her head and chuckled instead. “It’s my fucking job, you know?”

He sighed, the look was already packed away. “I know. Just like it’s my job to put the pieces back together. Anyway, get well soon, Pathfinder.”

She waved him off. “I’m fine, in fact you can just discharge me. I have no need for tubes and shit.”

He rolled his eyes and left. “I’ll check in on you later.”

Even before the door closed, Ryder was already shifting the bed into a sitting position, grunting as motion jarred her injuries. Her omni-tool launched to make a vid-call to Kandros. She was about to give him a piece of her fucking mind. The Pathfinder’s job was never done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


End file.
